Memory, Migration and Modern Maternity
Excerpted from Mary Oliver's Flare
5.
My mother was the blue wisteria, my mother was the mossy stream out behind the house, my mother, alas, alas, did not always love her life, heavier than iron it was as she carried it in her arms, from room to room, oh, unforgettable! I bury her in a box in the earth and turn away. My father was a demon of frustrated dreams, was a breaker of trust, was a poor, thin boy with bad luck. He followed God, there being no one else he could talk to; he swaggered before God, there being no one else who would listen. Listen, this was his life. I bury it in the earth. I sweep the closets. I leave the house. 6. I mention them now, I will not mention them again. It is not lack of love nor lack of sorrow. But the iron thing they carried, I will not carry. I give them--one, two, three, four--the kiss of courtesy, of sweet thanks, of anger, of good luck in the deep earth. May they sleep well. May they soften. But I will not give them the kiss of complicity. I will not give them the responsibility for my life. |
Resources:
Say It, Sister: N.O.W.'s Blog for Equality
A Canadian looks at The Evolution of TV Mothers D'Enbeau & Buzzanell's ... Scrutinizing Female Bodies in the Media Single Moms tell The Missing Story of Ourselves in Higher Education An American Studies Master's These online: Mammy Dearest Jim Crow and The Mammy Caricature Find a support group for Motherless Daughters Transnational Motherhood: A Mother's Heart is Weighed Down With Stones A Little Lucille Goes A Long Way
Click here to listen to her take on one of the most famous mothers in history.
|